


Get Under My Skin [Take My Body Home Remix]

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), Bad BDSM Etiquette, Community: cap_ironman, Dom Tony, Dom Tony Stark, Extremis, Extremis Tony Stark, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, New Avengers Vol. 3 (2013), Non-Linear Narrative, Not A Fix-It, POV Steve Rogers, Porn with Feelings, Remix, Rope Bondage, Service Top, Shibari, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, Sub Steve, Sub Steve Rogers, Superior Iron Man Vol 1. (2015), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: Oh, this could’ve been a wonderful thing. It would’ve been, once upon a time.But Tony had decided he wanted to be cruel. And Steve had let him because he loved him, too.This story takes place before the original but can be read on its own.[Written for the Cap-Ironman Remix Exchange 2018.]





	Get Under My Skin [Take My Body Home Remix]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiyaar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyaar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Take My Body Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816097) by [Kiyaar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyaar/pseuds/Kiyaar). 



> Some love too little, some too long,  
> Some sell, and others buy;  
> Some do the deed with many tears,  
> And some without a sigh:  
> For each man kills the thing he loves,  
> Yet each man does not die.  
> ― Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

“I didn’t think you’d come to this,” said Tony, pleasantly. As if he had no cares, as if he wouldn’t be bothered if Steve hadn’t shown. Of course, Steve knew better. They'd been doing this long enough. 

He pulled the chair out and took his seat. Tony was smiling at him, bright and open. For a moment, all he could think was _you’re beautiful_.

It felt wrong though. It felt wrong to see Tony, as he was now, and think he was beautiful. _Wicked things can still be beautiful_ , he thought with a sigh.

A part of him hated this, hated how exposed he felt _just sitting here_. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary; nothing suspect. They were at an outdoor café, about to enjoy a meal together.

There was nothing sinister.

And yet, it felt as if every eye were watching him, as if every camera were pointed at him. It felt as if someone were waiting for the ruse to end. Biding their time in the shadows, waiting for when the sun would set, to come out and…

And _what_? What would they do?

He could hear Tony’s derisive laughter. _You’re paranoid, old man. What would anyone want with you? You’re lucky I’ve always had a soft spot for blonds. I could have anyone I want._

It was nerve-wracking. Sitting out here, in the open, for the world to ridicule if it so chose.

He never felt this way around other people. But everything about this, about Tony… It got under his skin. _Why did it always feel like this with him?_

And yet, there was another part of him loved this as much as Tony. Perhaps, he was an exhibitionist. Perhaps, he enjoyed having voyeurs watch him with delight.

 _Tony would agree_ , he thought.

He studied him. They hadn’t seen each other in a while. Part of Steve had needed to stay away, out of reach. Another part of him had dreaded any kind of meeting. And yet another part of him knew what would come from any forced interaction.

So many of their interactions were forced these days. Steve could barely stand to be in his presence, could barely stand to hear him, let alone see him. These interactions though, they were different. Here, in this space, they could pretend it was real.

They were both fools in their own ways, of course. It was as real as the ground beneath their feet. As real as the threat of sudden death that loomed over them. As real as that fateful night in Wakanda.

There was no wound, of course. Nothing discernible. An MRI wouldn’t pick up anything but he felt the emptiness as if it were a phantom limb.

In spite, or despite, his thoughts and his better judgment, here he was.

The laws of physics, that body of rules, written in universal constants, that governed the way things ought to run just didn’t matter here. Here, in this space they had carved for themselves, amidst the lies and the deceit. It’s where they experimented with what they had hoped to achieve in a world that wasn’t on the brink of annihilation.

There were pros to this mess, this mess they were in. He could get a good view. Feast his eyes if he so chose. He did, of course. He hadn’t come here just for the meal. He could eat that anywhere.

New York had better Italian food.

It was late afternoon and the sun was low in the sky. Tony was wearing those red sunglasses he seemed to favor these days. He couldn’t say he didn’t like them. They made him look good, after all. But he always looked good these days.

He knew it was the virus. _That damned virus_.

Tony cleared his throat. It pulled him from his reverie. _Dammit_ , he thought to himself. He was staring.

"Don't act as if you're not excited to see me, Steve. I’m very exciting,” said Tony, grinning. He took a sip of wine and licked his lips, seductively. Part of him wanted to bite him, wanted to see if he still bled.

If he still tasted like iron.

It was disconcerting, seeing him drink again. He didn’t know how he felt about it. He should despise him for it, despise him for what he’d become.

Oh, it was why he’d come to California. Here, he could parade himself as a god. Pontificate on what it meant to be human, as if he had any clue.

In California, he could act superior and people would come to his door, beg him for more. They’d be willing to pay whatever price.

_You’re one to speak, aren’t you here, groveling at my feet?_

 

 _“I’m_ wired _this way, Steven. Don’t you know? They come to my door now, begging for access. Begging to be the first. I must oblige them. It would be cruel, otherwise. I don’t wish to be cruel,” he said, in that viscous voice that made him want to beg for more._

Please _, he wanted to say._

Please touch me.

_Tony smiled, showing too much teeth. Their eyes met and Steve forced himself to look away. Forced himself to take a deep breath as he closed his eyes._

_“There you go,” said Tony. “You’re so very good for me.”_

_He was so close. Steve could feel his breath, the way it caressed his skin. He wanted more. Wanted so much more than this._

_And yet, he knew he couldn’t leave. The restraints would keep him in place._

All the once, he was more terrifying and enticing than any one person had any right to be.

Tony pushed his sunglasses up along the bridge of his nose. He was killing time, waiting for Steve to say something. Waiting for Steve to do something, but what could he do? What could he do in public, like this? What could he do that he hadn’t considered a hundred billion times before?

_Punching you hadn’t done us any good._

Perhaps, it was hypocritical, to think of him like this. _You’re not above reproach_.

But he didn’t exploit those weaknesses, didn’t exploit those desires. Tony did. To him, Steve was just another body, just another warm mouth. He was much too eager.

It should bother him. It _should_ , but Tony had moved a little closer, pushed his chair further in. Their knees had touched under the table and Steve let out a gasp he didn’t know he had been holding as Tony reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers.

It was too much. Too much.

Taking off his sunglasses, Tony watched Steve. “You could have whatever you wanted, Steve.”

Steve hated that he believed him. Underneath it all, there was still that part of him he loved.

The dying embers of a luminous star. Long after it had died, its light would shine on and bring warmth to planets far, far away.

He couldn’t decide if it was worth feeling warm if the radiation was going to kill him anyway.

_There’s beauty in pain._

Once upon a time, when he had saved him from a burning building – in that distant era, when Tony didn’t measure his self-worth in in-app purchases – he thought Tony would’ve hated everything about this. Hated everything he had let himself become.

The man before him, though, he didn’t hate himself. Not at all.

He had known Tony for so long, had seen him fight his demons, had seen him come so close to losing everything. And yet, he never thought he’d hate the fact that he could look in the mirror without sneering, without snickering into his reflection. _Oh, it’s you again._

These days, Steve tried to quell his anger. Tried to control his emotions. Temper them.

Some days were better than others.

Still, he didn’t know if it bothered him: Extremis, the drinking, the public displays of affection. Surely, it should bother him. But here they were, waiting for their server to return, fingers interlaced on the table

They weren’t anything, though. This wasn’t serious. _It couldn’t be serious._

He eyed their interlaced fingers and kept telling himself this, hoping it would stick. Hoping he would soon learn to let go and go away.

_He’s a liar, Rogers, when are you going to learn? When are you going to stop giving him second chances?_

_Was it worth feeling warm if you knew you were going to burn?_

 

_He didn’t want to leave, he wanted Tony to get closer. Wanted to hear less and feel more. The more he felt, the less he’d have to think. It was so much easier to give in to the sensations than it was to listen to reason._

_Tony knew. Of course, he knew. “Do you think me cruel? Is this a cruel and unusual punishment?”_

_He asked it so simply. As if it weren’t a multilayered question. As if any answer Steve gave would suffice. It wouldn’t, it couldn’t. There was too much between them now. Layers built upon layers. Oh, this could’ve been a wonderful thing. It would’ve been, once upon a time._

_But Tony had decided he wanted to be cruel. And Steve had let him because he loved him, too._

_It was cruel to lie with the man you loved and let the love seep through your pores, in the little actions you took; ministrations. It was cruel to say kind words._ Be safe _. When at the same time, you kept concealed the things you weren’t saying because you didn’t think he’d understand._

_It was cruel to lie in bed. Crueler still to build a life with him._

This team, this team has always been our life. But this one, this one…

_But it was also cruel to confront him, with onlookers all around, and punch him into the ground._

_It was punishment enough to remember that which he had forgotten. And it was punishment enough to become the very worst version of himself imaginable._

_They were both cruel and this was their punishment. The thing they had always wanted was tainted, tainted with betrayal._

_Steve bit his lower lip but nodded. Tony smiled. A real smile this time. The one that Steve couldn’t forget._

_Steve felt the blush creep as Tony’s 1000-watt stare warmed him. He felt his heart beating erratically. Felt every nerve in his body come alive. Felt overworked, strung out and they hadn’t done anything yet._

_This was all a setup._

_Tony traced his mouth. His finger was smooth, too smooth. They weren’t calloused anymore, not the way he remembered them being. The melancholy tugged on his heartstrings._

_He tilted his head up, the warmth of his fingers replacing the coolness of his breath. They beckoned him forward. He obliged._

_Of course, he did. This was what he wanted. It was what he craved._

_Steve opened his eyes as Tony bit down. Steve shuddered; he couldn’t help himself. But he wouldn’t whimper. Not like this, with his arms above his head, and a deep blush blossoming across his chest._

_“Surely, Steven, you can understand that. Not wanting to seem cruel.”_

 

“Oh, c’mon, I know that face," said Tony. He reached for him, but Steve turned his head away.

“I recognize that face,” said Tony, leaning into him, his elbows resting on the table. "Why do you want to deprive yourself?"

Steve wasn’t going to rise to the bait. He was done talking, was done thinking, at least, for the night. In the morning, he always had so many thoughts. _Enough of that_.

Unfolding the napkin, he placed it on his lap, smoothing it across his thighs. He needed to focus on something else. Needed to divert his attention. Being around Tony was overwhelming.

Perhaps, it was why he had stayed away. Perhaps, it was why he had refused to come. Refused to show up sooner.

He had just arrived and already, he wanted to leave.

"You look good," he said. He didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know how to talk to him.

_I hate everything you’ve become but I can’t stop thinking about you._

He was _trying_. He was trying his best to express his desires, express his wishes. Real couples did that kind of thing.

_“We’re not a real couple,” said Tony, first, as he ran his hands down Steve’s heaving chest, and then as he kissed the hard line of muscle, sinking lower and lower._

_When Steve didn’t comment – didn’t rise to the bait – he’d ask again. “Hm, what do you think about that?”_

_He knew damn well Steve wouldn’t say, couldn’t say. Not when he was so hard and leaking from the tip and Tony’s lips were so, so close._

_He just wanted to feel, wanted to get lost in the sensations. Didn’t Tony understand? He could toy with him later, maybe tomorrow. He’d be back. They both knew that. Steve was much too addicted to these endorphins, this adrenaline high. Too much oxytocin._

_If he would just hold him._

_He wasn’t going to cry. Not now, not like this. He turned his head, leaning into the pillow, resting on the down. He needed to relax, his breaths were coming too hard, too fast. Tony could hear him, could feel him quivering. Steve was at his mercy and he needed to be quiet._

_Couldn’t let the faintest whisper escape his lips. Couldn’t let himself cry._

_There were rules. Even though a part of him wanted whatever punishment Tony wished to dole out, he wanted this even more._

It would be so easy to just…give in. Give in to the sensation.

_After all, it’s why he’d come. Why he had traveled all this way. Only Tony could take him out of his mind. After all, he’d done it once before._

_“Bad dreams?”_

_“Something like that.”_

You speak when I tell you. You moan when I want to hear you. Otherwise, you’re silent. This isn’t for you. This isn’t about you. You’re just willing and able and I can’t resist blond men.

You were a spy once, use your expertise. I intend to use mine.

_He spoke in that detached way he said the things he wished he could change but wouldn’t. Though, this was well within his power to change them._

_Did he want Steve to ask him? Was he waiting for Steve to make a move?_

_How could he want to be with him when this is what he’d become? He was living on an island, away from the rest of the city. Didn’t he want to get away, didn’t he want to be adored from afar? His many fans clamoring for a chance, for their 15 seconds of fame._

_For what? The chance to be in bed with him. For as great as it was, it wouldn’t be worth it._

_Wouldn’t be worth the way he felt in the morning, when he woke up all alone, back in his hotel room. He’d lay on the pillows, ignoring the throbbing pain in his back, his thighs… He’d lay there thinking of him. Always him. Across the bay, doing whatever it was he did in the day, now that he had crowned himself God._

_He always dreaded coming back but longed to return to this._

_Tony wouldn’t ask him to stay. He never did. Not after he had cleaned them up. Not after he had fed Steve. Not after he had caressed his cheek and massaged his neck and spoke to him, feigning concern. “Do you feel better now? Was that to your liking?”_

_All Steve could do was nod. He couldn’t speak, he’d say too many things._

I love you. You’re an asshole.

Let me go. Please, please ask me to stay.

_Eventually, Tony would grow tired of the domesticity. He was always restless and he’d done what he was going to do to Steve. He’d had his fill for the night. Besides, if his lover turned down another round, there was no point in keeping him around._

_No, he would just get back. Back to doing whatever it was he’d been doing before, and leave Steve alone with his thoughts._

_He wouldn’t even say anything as he left. Leaving the silence that clung to them to hang in the air, unbroken._

_Oh, he knew exactly what that did to him. It rattled Steve’s nerves and it worked every time. Steve would get up, leaving the bed unmade – his one act of defiance._

_Slowly, he’d get dressed. Wash his face. Praying for the water to feel icy cold._

_It never did._

 

_What were they doing?_

_Why are you still here?_

 

Besides, he was always well-dressed. Everything he wore fit him perfectly.

Steve watched the long line of his neck, peeking under his dress shirt. He thought of sliding into his lap, feeling his arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close. He’d slid his hand under his silk shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. The cool silk a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from Tony’s body.

He’d run his tongue along his collarbone.

Tony would run his fingers through his hair, dragging his head back, a devilish smile forming, as he’d say, “Someone’s hungry.”

He couldn’t continue undressing him with his eyes, wishing he could pull him close and take him apart. They hadn’t ordered yet.

The sun was still out.

This kind of behavior was inappropriate in public. He needed to control himself.

He couldn’t stop looking at him, though. Couldn’t stop looking at his neck, wishing to bite into that flesh. Wishing to mark him and hear him moan. Wishing to hear whatever praise he doled out on those days he was feeling particularly generous.

He wanted to touch every inch of him, wanted to feel the heat his body gave off, wanted to feel the sweat.

And yet, here he was.

“Did you order yet,” he asked, deliberately avoiding the question Tony had asked. He wasn’t depriving himself of anything, not at all. He was rather gluttonous these days. His wolfish desire was getting the best of him.

Pointing to the menu, he kept his voice neutral. “You didn’t answer my question: did you order yet?”

_Was he going to eat? Did he have to eat anymore? Would Extremis just fix his stomach if an ulcer formed?_

_Would it even form?_

_Did it even fucking matter?_

He knew he shouldn’t have come. He knew this would be a waste of time. He had other things he should be doing, other places he should be. It was a wonder SHIELD hadn’t called him. He hadn’t said where he was going, only that he needed some time off. He had accrued more than enough time off.

 

 _Two days_ , he told Sharon. _You can send a search team to dig me out of the Pacific if I don’t come back in two days._

_Why do I have the feeling I don’t want to know where you’re or who you’re meeting?_

_Because you don’t._

_What aren’t you telling me?_

He never answered her question. There was no simple answer.

 

And yet, there was something that compelled him, that kept him seated when all he wanted to do was leave.

_This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be doing this._

_You get under my skin and I can’t wash you away._

All he had to was get up. It was so easy. He could do it now, could’ve done it at any one of a hundred different points.

He’s had so many opportunities.

And yet, he sat, transfixed, waiting for Tony to answer. Waiting for him to say _anything_.

But Tony wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t do a damned thing he didn’t want to do. He just looked at him slyly, as he sipped his wine. Steve wanted to punch him again. He was restless.

He couldn’t take this.

“We could take a trip to Napa Valley. You’d like a bed and breakfast. I could chain you to the bed and fuck you until you couldn’t move, couldn’t get out of bed. I’d drag you to breakfast the next morning. Put you on display. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Steve stared at him but didn’t say anything, didn’t dare.

“Didn’t you miss it? Being manhandled like that. It’s okay, you can admit it: no one fucks you like I do and you’re greedy and hungry and you want more. Don’t kid yourself, I know that’s why you’re here.”

What was his _problem_? Did he get off on humiliating him? On exposing him like this, where anyone could hear?

He kept still, rooted in place.

“That’s what I thought, dear,” he said, sitting back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re already doing so well.”

Perhaps that show of dominance, that kind of aggression said more about him, more about _them_ , than he wished to express so openly, in view of so many people. In another time, Tony would’ve chosen a quieter venue. Somewhere exclusive. And he wouldn’t have been so overt.

Steve sighed.

“You should eat, Tony,” he said, exasperated.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, that sly smile returning.

 _This is going to be a long night_ , thought Steve. He couldn’t deny his excitement. It’s why he had come, after all.

“What do you want?” He was being brusque. Steve knew. Knew it was part of the act. He had been friendly and pleasant – jovial, even – while they were at dinner, but that was preamble.

He was always charismatic. It’s part of why they had started doing this in the first place, why did still did this. Steve hadn’t forgotten, ironic enough, what he had done. What he had let happen in Wakanda.

He felt so betrayed. Felt so used.

And yet, he found himself watching Tony undress. Tony made a show of it. Of course, he did. Everything was a show to him. It was all a spectacle and he was the center of attention. But Steve couldn’t blame him, he was so beautiful.

Warm, tanned skin. Lean, hard muscle.

It had worked, of course. The casual affection. The way he acted as if Steve was his whole world. It was infuriating. Steve couldn’t wait to leave. Couldn’t wait to go back home.

This wasn’t home, though. Home was 890 Fifth Avenue. That home was in ruins. Seemed fitting, really, when he thought of it.

_His home was in ruins. This – this would leave him in ruins._

_He was ruined._

He thought about it as he watched Tony saunter closer, and brush his cheek. He was so warm. Steve hated being cold, hated feeling cold. Only wanted to feel warmth. Only wanted to lie on him, next to him.

Get under my skin and build me up again.

He thought of the mansion once again, thought of those quiet moments they’d stolen. He felt a pang in his chest. Why was he thinking of this? Why was he letting the nostalgia take hold?

He hadn’t lived there in years. Had stopped calling it home. It really shouldn’t matter anymore but he missed so much. Those early years… He was being nostalgic. He’d have time later, perhaps, tomorrow, to mourn the loss of that team, those bonds.

 _Bonds_. He couldn’t wait to feel the ropes. Couldn’t wait to feel Tony’s hands on him, knotting the ropes behind his back.

He really needed this.

 _I just want you_ , he wanted to say, but that was inappropriate.

Tony didn’t want to hear that and he didn’t want to hear himself saying it. He leaned into Tony’s touch. He wanted this so badly. Kept coming back for more. He leaned in to kiss him and watched the smile spread across his face as he licked his lips.

_I’m ruined._

 

He was sitting on his heels. His breaths were slow and steady. Measured.

“I feel like sitting in your lap,” Tony had said as he came out with the ropes. They were a dark blue. Under certain lights, they would appear to be purple. They would complement his cool complexion, he knew that was why Tony had picked those. He had others, they had used them before. He wasn’t complaining. They were nice and sturdy. Not uncomfortable, not itchy.

It was nice. He needed this. Felt grounded.

It was as if he had been unearthed, and this, this would finally put him to rest.

 

Tony had finished tying his hands together. He tugged on the knot, making sure it wouldn’t come undone. Steve knew it wouldn’t. Tony wasn’t a fool; the ropes were stronger than they seemed. They were heavy, too. He wanted for the ropes to dig into his skin and leave their mark. He wanted something to see, something to blame later, or perhaps, in the morning. When he was left alone to ponder his mistakes, to ponder all the ways this was wrong.

All the ways he was wrong.

If Maria knew he was here… If anyone else found out…

But that was half of the thrill: knowing he wasn’t supposed to be here, knowing he wasn’t supposed to want this. Knowing he wasn’t supposed to want him.  

His arms were bound to each other behind his back. He had wound the ropes under his arms and across his ribcage. He could still breathe. That would soon change though.

Tony climbed onto the bed behind him, kissing along his shoulder, and sucked on his neck, just above the clavicle. Steve sucked in his breath and tossed his head back. He could feel Tony smile against his skin. Could feel the warmth emanating from him.

 _Please, please… Keep touching me._ He wanted to say it. Wanted to tell him what to do. Wanted to tell him how to make him feel, but he knew the rules. Tony didn’t want him to speak and he had agreed.

He always agreed.

_You can safe word at any time. I’m not a monster._

Tony moved closer and wrapped his arms around him. “How do you want this?”

He ran his hands down and across Steve’s ribcage, trailing the rope. Steve sucked in another breath. He was so hard. Tony knew. He had to know.

He started humming as he brought his hands up and across Steve’s chest. He twisted his nipple between his fingers and Steve shuddered. Tony kept twisting and teasing his nipple. He cupped Steve’s cheek with his free hand, turning his head to the side. Steve leaned into the kiss.

This was deeper than the first kiss. The first kiss had been exploratory. This was all heat and intention.

Pulling away, Steve bit down on his lower lip, and brought him closer. Tony, digging his hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, pulled him off.

“ _Behave_.”

Steve lowered his gaze, closed his eyes, and nodded. He had gotten carried away, he knew.

Tony took in a breath, steadying himself. He moved before Steve, splaying his hands on his thighs, he leaned in to kiss him. This kiss was softer. He was apologizing.

Steve kissed him slowly, savoring the feel of him so close. Tony slid his hands up along Steve’s trembling thighs. Soon, he was sitting in his lap.

Steve was panting, leaning his head against his shoulder as Tony stroked him. He was wet and he wanted to feel Tony’s lips wrap around his head, but he didn’t say anything. Knew he wouldn’t get that, even if he asked.

Tony seemed pleased with Steve’s heavy breathing. He seemed pleased with the way he quivered. “I want to try something, if you’d allow me,” he said. Smooth as velvet.

Steve looked up and nodded. He couldn't resist; wouldn’t resist him.

He moved away and in the moments after, Steve felt the chill of the room. Felt his absence. He watched him walk to the night table and grab the lube from one of the drawers. He crawled back onto the bed, towards the center, near Steve. His legs were numb now, it hurt to lean on his heels like this, but he didn’t care about that now.

Steve watched, transfixed, as Tony opened the small bottle and squeezed a liberal amount into the palm of his hands. Steve thought he was going to stroke himself. He imagined this was what Tony looked like when he was alone. Imagined this is was what Tony would do in hotels around the world, when he was away on business.

Steve wanted to touch him, want to crawl toward him. Wanted to run his hands up his thighs, across his hips. He wanted to lean down and lick the shaft. Wanted to watch him beg for release.

That didn’t happen. Instead, Tony moved closer and reached for Steve. He didn’t look at Steve, didn’t even acknowledge that they were in the same room. He moved with precision; effortlessly. Steve sucked in a breath when he felt the cool gel and Tony’s warm fingers wrap around him.

 _Oh, this was better_ , thought Steve. He licked his lips.

He couldn’t keep this position for much longer. His legs were numb; they tingled. Soon, there would be pain. It would be difficult to move later. The blood would take a while to circulate. In the morning, he’d have difficulties walking if Tony kept him like this much longer.

He wasn’t as young as he had been. Though age hadn’t caught up with him, his body couldn’t bounce back as quickly. Tony knew that. He had to know that.

He knew what to do. His hold was firm, not enough to bruise, but he used more pressure than most would like. He knew Steve would like it. He was doing this for Steve.

“Spread your legs,” he said, smirking as he did.

Steve obliged.  

Tony lowered himself on his dick and Steve panted into his shoulder. He felt so good. He must’ve prepped before they met up for dinner. Steve let his imagination run wild, toying with different fantasies. Imaging the different ways Tony would’ve pleasured himself.

Would he have thought of Steve?

As Tony settled in his lap, he wound his hands through Steve’s hair, and ran his hands down his back. It was overwhelming. He could feel him everywhere.  

Tony continued to fuck himself. Though he ran his hands across Steve’s body, and nibbled on his ear, and panted into his neck, and kissed him so hard Steve was left to wonder if his lips were bleeding, he refused to speak to him. Refused to say anything.

Steve could only speak if Tony asked him a question. Though Tony was usually the one who couldn’t stop talking, his silence, and the accompanying sounds, were maddening.

He wished he could reach out and touch him but he knew that was why his hands had been bound behind him. He could feel only what Tony let him feel, could say only what Tony wanted him to say.

_You can safe word at any time, Winghead._

It was the price he paid to be this close, to feel this close to him. It was the feeling he most hated in the morning, when it was all said and done.  

Maybe it was because his legs were numb, maybe it was because he was so close, maybe it was because all the emotions that had welled up – the ones he had, subsequently, ignored – came crashing at once, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t handle just being a good fuck. Maybe Tony knew what he was going to say, maybe Tony knew which would break this silence. Maybe he knew which word hung between them, as of yet, unspoken.

He wanted to ask him if this would matter?

If this would matter later or tomorrow? Or if he would just fuck another blond, any blond that looked like him, that felt like him, that reminded him of him. Would that suffice? Would that quench his thirst?

If he couldn’t speak, if he couldn’t say anything, would it even matter what the others sounded like when they spoke? Did he even let them speak?

“Please,” he croaked.

Tony pushed him on his back. “What do you want? Say it, Steve.”

Steve shook his head and Tony covered his mouth with his hand. He was uncomfortable, lying on top of his bound arms, but the angle was perfect for Tony.

He was perfect. Absolutely flawless. There were no blemishes, no scars. _Extremis_.

Tony was using him for his body and it was never clearer. But Steve was so close. It wouldn’t be worth it. He didn’t want to stop now. But he wanted to see his expression, wanted to see the way his face changed when he said it. Wanted to see if it would still elicit the same reaction.

He wanted to know if this meant something or if he was just a glorified fucking machine.

It was as if he could hear his thoughts because Tony leaned into him, every inch of their bodies touching, and said, “You feel so good, Winghead.”

Steve closed his eyes, he could feel the tears.

Tony caressed his cheek, ever so lightly, and said, “Come for me, please.” And he sounded so much like himself, Steve started to cry, the tears slowly rolling down his cheek.  

Tony sat up and pulled Steve to him, wrapping his legs around his hips. He kept his rhythm.

“Say it. I know you want to, just say it.”

But Steve just shook his head.

Tony kissed him, digging his nails into his skin as he dragged his hands up his back. There was an urgency there that hadn’t been there before. As if the kiss should be enough, as if it answered his question. It didn’t.

But Tony did.

“I love you,” he said. It sounded so sincere. It was all he wanted to hear, all he had been wanting to hear.

He knew he had come but it didn’t matter.

 

When he woke up, the ropes were gone. The marks were still visible, but the ropes were gone. Tony was nowhere to be found. Steve wanted to close his eyes again and go back to sleep and imagine a time where Tony would stay. Where Tony would cuddle with him.

He turned, still leaning against the pillow, and saw that a note had been scribbled. He picked up the note and read it once over. He let it rest on his chest and let himself cry.

_He knows._

 

The note read:

_Good morning, beloved._

_– Shellhead_


End file.
